


blink

by canisspiritus (renardroi)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Apocalypse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/canisspiritus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck. Fuck. He’s so fucked. Survived the raiders and now he’s getting put down like a dog by some scavenger.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [3ffloresce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ffloresce/gifts).



> i ha vent edited this i wrote it at 2 in the morning god help me

The earth bleeds, the sky falls, but the stars hang ever in the sky. As the blood consumes him, washing over him in a flood, all he can think of is the ethereal beauty of untouchable galaxies. No matter what happens here, the stars won’t even blink.

Will wakes.

It’s hot and cloying. The clothes he’s wearing feel heavy, soaked with sweat. As he groans into his arm, he wonders at the source of the heat. If it were brighter behind his eyelids, he might think it to be the sun, but if he moves his hands left or right even a few inches, he can feel walls. Perhaps the tight space and a lack of ventilation. He should probably open his eyes instead of sitting in uncomfortable silence and trying to go back to sleep.

Will blinks.

For a moment the difference between closed and open is almost indiscernible. But as his brain turns on, and his eyes get used to the dark, he realizes he needs to get moving again. Self-assess, readjust, get back on the road. First on the list, where is he?

It’s small for sure, his legs folded and his upper body propped against a wall. His left hand is still clutching a dull switchblade instinctively, and his bruised right elbow is hiding a scratched up handgun. Check the ammunition, take inventory. He puts the knife down momentarily to check the magazine in the gun – nine bullets – but doesn’t let it out of his sight. He needs to be ready. For what? He’s not sure.

The heat is bad, heavy on his chest, heavy on his head. There’s a dull ache in his leg and another on his side and he hasn’t checked them yet, but Will’s starting to wonder if maybe he’s feverish. No way to be sure though.

Next. Keep moving.

It looks like he’s in a closet. Now that his eyes have adjusted, he can see yellowish light through the gaps in the closed door. Probably sunlight. What happened? He remembers people – smoke? His head throbs a little as he recalls being hit with something. Fuck. Probably a raid. He shouldn’t have stayed put. He knew better than that, but he’d stayed in this damned house for three days nursing a migraine.

At least it was gone now. Jury’s still out on whether or not it’s a good thing he’s been left alive.

He runs his hands down his chest feeling his jacket pockets for anything he can find. Nothing except for the ache in his side worsening. He should look at. He needs to see if it’s bad. But he continues to check his person for any kind of…something. Will pats the pockets on his jeans and flinches hard. What the fuck?

Pain shoots up his leg like an electric shock, startling him. Alright it’s bad. Very bad down there. He takes note of it; wound to his thigh, unknown cause. Possibly gunshot or stab wound. Possibly infected or worse. The other wound to his side; missed his ribs, stings like a bitch. Most likely not very deep.

Fuck his leg. Honestly. It’s fucked. Did he fucking crawl into this closet with a wound this bad? There’s a huge radius around where he’s guessing the actual wound is that’s in a lot of pain and is soaked with blood. If it’s not infected he may have deliriously walked on it and fucked himself over. In the dark, he can see that the material of his jeans is ripped about two thirds of the way down his thigh but his pants are warped from this position so it’s not lined up with the wound.

He needs to get out so he can see. Although his urgency isn’t as bad as it was before, since he’s starting to cool off. The sweat trickles and feels cold. Maybe he’s woken up just as the fever has passed. Maybe. Though he doubts his luck is that good.

Okay. Time to ge –

Footsteps echo through the house. They sound heavy. Either a larger person or someone carrying a lot of gear, he thinks as he takes the safety off on his gun. Maybe the raiders hadn’t left? Maybe he’s only been passed out for a short while. It seems unlikely.

Will listens for a long time, while the footsteps move slowly but surely through the house. If he’s not mistaken, he’s holed up in a cupboard near the kitchen, towards the back of the house. And the person he can hear is searching. After about five counts to sixty, there’s still no indication of another person in the house, unless they’re not moving or are very close to the other in weight and shoes, and only moving when they’re still.

Maybe a scavenger. Someone who follows the boisterous and rowdy groups of raiders and picks the bones of shelters clean. Either way they’re being methodical and careful. There’s no chance he’s going to be passed over, even if he had a lamb with him. So he keeps his gun at the ready. His knife isn’t gonna do much if he can’t move but honestly it can’t help to have on him.

Six more counts and he can here the change in the tone of the footsteps as the person moves into the kitchen and onto tile. The kitchen will stall them with all the cupboards but it’s not going to stop them. At least it’s cool in here. Though for some strange reason he’s still sweating like crazy.

Thump thump thump. The next few cupboards. Thump thump thump. The next.

They approach his hiding place and Will lifts his gun and tries to quietly cock it. His chest aches. Probably from the tension and anxiety, and trying not to breathe. He can hear the footsteps move in front of the door, he can feel the floor shift slightly and the vibrations of the steps, and the light in the door is blocked out in many places.

Fuck. Fuck. He’s so fucked. Survived the raiders and now he’s getting put down like a dog by some scavenger.

The closet door swings open and he aims as fast as he can at the person’s heart. It’s difficult with how badly his hand shakes and how bright the light is. There’s a soft sound of surprise but the person doesn’t jump forward or back so Will stays like that, knees up and his gun aimed – well, at least at their chest since he can’t steady it.

They both stare at each other. As soon as the sunlight stops scorching his eyes he can see that it’s a very tall and broad shouldered man. Blonde hair, with a little ginger mixed in. Chops? He has an unreadable expression on his face, one hand still on the door and the other on a large bag hanging from his shoulder.

Will struggles to count, the man interrupts his silent timekeeping.

“You look like you could use help.” His voice is gentle as he raises his hands in a gesture of peace or whatever.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I swear to god I will fucking shoot you.” Will threatens, his throat sore and his voice harsh sounding. Despite the warning, the man takes a step forward.

“I’m not going to hur –“

“Back off!” Will shouts, dropping his knife in favor of supporting the heavy gun. “I will use every fucking bullet I have if you don’t turn around and fuck off to wherever you came from.”

He seems to listen this time, raising his hands again in submission. Every movement seems methodical and careful so as not to alarm him – with good reason. He’s a strange man, soft and slow, although tall as fuck. A gentle giant, Will thinks.

“I saw the bonfire smoke from a couple miles away. Knew it was the local raiders. I came to see if there was anything left, that’s all.” He smiles at him, and Will frowns back. “I’m Kirin.”

Will doesn’t reply. Fuck, why is it so cold?

“Your leg looks bad.” He says as he kneels. There’s a long pause as he seems to consider his next words. “You look like you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Parv?” Will asks suddenly and fiercely. He’s put himself in charge of that kid. Even though he was only a year or two younger, he’d appointed himself guardian. He should have remembered, even if his brain felt like it was spinning in circles. How could he have forgotten?  

“Parv? Is that…your friend?” Kirin speaks slowly. “I…haven’t seen anyone else around here.”

“Fuck you, don’t fucking lie to me.” His grip on the gun tightens, but his hands are sweating like the rest of him. The pain in his chest feels like it’s getting worse.

After a long moment of silence, Kirin seems to fold. “There’s…a body. In the front room. I don’t know who it is, but…”

Will mutters a curse, the end of his gun dipping. He can’t seem to raise it again so he props it up on his knee, on his good leg. There’s not really much point to it now, but he’d much rather go out dying of blood loss with his gun in his hand, than mercy killed by some greedy scavenger with a kind voice. Parv’s voice had been kind when they’d met, and he’d turned out to be a ruthless and conniving son of a bitch. A little immature but still.

“Will you let me take a look at your leg? I can try and patch –“

“I don’t think…” Will’s teeth chatter. His brain feels like someone’s stuffed a whole pillow into it. The dizziness is starting to give him a headache. “I can see the blood. Don’t waste. Resources.”

The gun slides out of his hand, either from a lack of grip or from the Gentle Giant taking it. He can’t be sure. Everything hurts. He can feel fingers probing the tender flesh of his thigh and he stifles any sounds he’s going to make. Kirin’s leaning over him, looking a little upset. Will feels the urge to reassure him, but it’s already difficult to breathe. He wants to tell Kirin it’ll be alright, but his eyes are closing and he's too tired too. It's fine. The stars won’t even blink.

**Author's Note:**

> I gifted this to 3ffloresce b/c they started a post-apocalyptic fic a while back and it hasn't been updated. I rly liked this idea a lot. T-T
> 
> im sorry this is quite l ame


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